Belinda (dropping her eyes modestly). But this is England.
Baxter (rising and taking off his hat, which he places on table, and going up to Belinda). Mrs. Tremayne, I claim the right of age–of my greater years–to speak first.
Devenish. Mrs. Tremayne, I—
Belinda (kindly to Devenish). You can speak afterwards, Mr. Devenish. It's so awkward when you both speak together. (To Baxter, giving encouragement.) Yes?
Baxter (moving down a little and then returning to Belinda). Mrs. Tremayne, I am a man of substantial position–(Devenish sniggers–to Baxter's great annoyance.) and perhaps I may say of some repute in serious circles.
(Devenish sniggers again.)
All that I have, whether of material or mental endowment, I lay at your feet, together with an admiration which I cannot readily put into words. As my wife I think you would be happy, and I feel that with you by my side I could achieve even greater things.
Belinda. How sweet of you! But I ought to tell you that I'm no good at figures.
Devenish (protesting). My lady—
Belinda. I don't mean what you mean, Mr. Devenish. You wait till it's your turn. (To Baxter.) Yes?